


Flarping Nights

by enigmaticNeurologist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/F, FLARP, Gen, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pale Porn, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scourge Sisters, except it's more akin to non consensual drug use, it's not graphic but probably worth a warning just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticNeurologist/pseuds/enigmaticNeurologist
Summary: In which Vriska and Terezi flarp and feed a pair of trolls to Vriska's lusus, then clean each other up.





	Flarping Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Started as exploring Terezi's justice-murder-flarping and the land of non-consensual pale contact (an idea that was inspired by the genius [ LostOzian ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostOzian)), but pretty much turned into gratuitous pre-sgrub vrisrezi pale shenanigans oops,,
> 
> This is completely un-beta'd, and also my first homestuck fic, so if there are any glaring mistakes either grammatically or characterization-wise just comment me up. 
> 
> Also brace yourself for non-cohesive bullshit troll anatomy that is oddly humanoid at points because the author didn't want to take the time to define/create a fully fledged troll anatomy headcanon.

Your flarping partner leans on her sword, one vividly red boot crossed over the other. 

"I'd call these two dumbasses guilty, wouldn't you Neophyte?" Two blue lined eyes meet your own, a sharp smirk growing below them. 

"You can't rush justice, Mindfang. We wouldn't want these two to get off the handle too easily," you gesture to the pair of trolls who look no more than a sweep away from your own age, "Triggering the submission reflexes of three and four sweepers and then feeding the papped-out near-wrigglers to their lusii is pretty underhanded, don't you agree?" 

"Slow death it is," The moonlight shifted and the resultant glare on Vriska's glasses obscured her eyes. Her still-visible smirk split into a smile, teeth glinting. 

"Maybe they'll feel a little regret if we're lucky," you blinked as the light from the moons ran across your glasses as well. 

" _If_  we're lucky? Need I remind you Neophyte, I have ALL of the luck," Vriska grabbed one of the tied-up trolls and when he snapped at her, she squinted in concentration and promptly put him to sleep. 

"I could never forget about your possession of the luck," you whack the cane from your flarping outfit over the head of  the other troll, who falls unconscious as well.  

With the pair of flarpers thrown over both her and your shoulders, you and Vriska begin the short trek back to her hive. 

"Two trolls keeps spidermom satisfied for a week now, right?" you ask, the bite incrementally chipping from your voice. 

Vriska lets out a sigh much louder than any sigh has the right to be, "No, stupid. She keeps getting hungrier, it's down to half a week now."

"Really? Woah, half a sweep ago, a meal like this would keep her full for almost a perigee," the edge of your mouth twists as you watch Vriska's shoulders grow fractionally tighter.

"I know. You don't even _know_ how much I know," she adjusts the sleeping troll so he is slung around her shoulders, and you do the same with the one you're carrying. 

"Do you know all of the knows?" the ground under your feet shifts from gravel to grass as you leave the road in favor of taking a shortcut across a few abandoned lawnrings of either dead or ascended trolls. 

"Obviously I know all the knows. That's a statement that goes without question," Vriska maneuvers the troll she was carrying so she could pull her dark hair out from being trapped underneath his limp body.  

A cramp builds in your neck, and you roll it in an attempt to alleviate the angered muscle, "As a Legislacerator, I am disgusted with these criminals."

Vriska's posture changes as she slips into her Mindfang persona, "As a criminal myself, I am equally disgusted with these idiots."

A burn starts to grow in your shoulders, but you roll them slightly and place as many mental blocks around the pain as you can without getting distracted from your conversation, "Do you have a number to put to how many three and four sweepers they killed, for legal purposes."

"Of course, because _obviously_ I just sat  there and counted while they moiraped wrigglers and fed them to lusii," Vriska shook her hair out of her face and looked over at you. 

You tilted your head back, silently asking Troll Issac Newton to inflict his forces upon you and push your glasses more firmly back onto your nose. "Ugh, what they did kinda makes me sick."

"Kinda?" Vriska looks over at you, "I mind-control people all the time," you shoot her a  _look_ but she either misses or ignores it, "and even I think that's fucked up on more levels than one. Anyway, wow, look at the time! It's not 'honesty hour', it's 'let's go feed these assholes to the spider in my basement hour'," her pace quickens, and you follow suit. 

Your mouth opens once or twice during the five minute long stretch it takes to reach Vriska's hive, but words don't come out and you don't force them. 

In silence, the two of you make your way down the several winding staircases of Vriska's hive at a much faster pace than one would usually consider safe. Fleetingly, you mumble that it would be a shame to fall down all those stairs. Again, Vriska either doesn't hear, or doesn't  choose to respond. 

Angered roaring from the cavern below shakes the stairway and grows increasingly painful in your auricular sponge clots the further down you walk. 

The massive white spider snaps at you and Vriska as you emerge from the cavern. Vriska tenses and she drops the sleeping troll she was carrying, equipping her fluorite octet to rest in her left palm as the troll fully leaves her arms. 

"Mindfang, hold these guys when we wake them up," you setting your passenger down with as much care as Vriska did previously. 

Vriska's breathes out a laugh, "Do you think I'm an idiot? Obviously I will. You have your statement ready, right? Sweeps are just flying past us by now."

"The statement and verdict have been already decided, of course," you adjust your glasses that threaten to slip off of the top of your nose once again.

Spidermom lets out another growl.

"Come on, we don't have all night here," Vriska pokes a sleeping troll, "I'm waking them now."

The pair comes to quickly, and after quick scans of their surroundings, they make an active effort to stand up and either fight or run. Vriska draws her eyebrows together and they freeze before they can complete their first movements, "Ha, nice try, but you'll have to be better than that to escape the infamous Marquise Spinneret Mindfang," her laugh reverberates full and loud around the cavern.

You walk over to the troll pair, close enough that if they regained mobility they could stand up and subsequently blind you with their horns.  "As Neophyte Legislacerator Redglare, I declare these two trolls as guilty of non-consensual pale contact with trolls four and younger. Do you object?" 

Vriska's eyebrow twitches incrementally, and the taller troll of the two gains the ability to open his mouth, "Fuck you, we had to feed our lusii too. At least we let our victims go out happily, not after toying with them and using them to play bullshit high court."

"They didn't go out happily, stupid," you shift both your weight and foot forward so your heel is crushing the taller one's toes. 

"Of course they did," he tries to spit at you but ends up with a feeble green trickle running down his chin. 

"And I now declare you an idiot," you eye the green drip and after ensuring its trajectory would not end with it falling on your flarping outfit, ground your heel harder into his foot and watched the drip fall beside it, "Schoolfeed time, you fucked with their thinkpans; papping lets chemicals loose that do that. You basically drugged wrigglers without asking first, and then murdered them. Not cool."

"You're insane, do you think this shit is any better than what we did?" he attempts futilely to spit at you again. 

"Mindfang, I don't believe I heard an objection. That would make these two guilty," you open your cane with a bright swish, the blades shining in what little light the cavern provides. 

"Come on, cut off their gross hands and then feed them to spidermom, let's _go,_ " Vriska unsheathes her sword as well. 

Screams rise. Flesh breaks, then thuds. Bodies rise, fall, thud, and then tear. Screams are cut short. Growling ceases. Spidermom sleeps. 

 

******

 

You grab Vriska's hand, sticky with blood. The two of you run up the stairs, through corridors, and into her ablution block. 

"Ugh, killing is just a chore at this point. You haven't talked about your bullshit moral dilemma over it in perigees, not that I miss it or anything," Vriska yanks her boots and jacket off, dropping them on the black tiled floor. 

"I can start, if you want. I have all my bullshit moral dilemmas lined up, ready to grace your aural spongeclots any time you desire," your glasses and boots join hers on the floor, but you set yours down with more care. 

Your bloodpusher twists as she sheds the rest of her flarping outfit, revealing sharp joints barely padded with the curves of prepubescence. 

"Wow Pyrope, stare much?" she shoots over her shoulder as she steps into her ablution trap, tossing her glasses carelessly on a nearby counter on the way in.  

A cheerful, jagged laugh drops from your throat as you join her, taking a few quick yet careful seconds to fold up the rest of your flarping outfit before moving your bare feet across the dark tile. 

She throws a bottle of shampoo at you, "I'm too lazy to wash my hair, get scrubbing." 

You look down at the label, pop open the top, and give it a sniff, "It seems  kind of dumb to pay extra for 'Traces of Spider Venom' when you already have free spider venom in your basement," you pour a copious amount out onto your hand, the bright cobalt nearly dripping off of your ashy palm.  

"That bitch isn't exactly free you know," Vriska leans her head back into your touch as you begin massaging the gel into her scalp and through her thick hair. 

Your hands work quick, and you take no care to mind your claws, "A simple cost of four trolls a week, sounds like a deal to me." 

"You're one to talk, you have an egg," her voice is interrupted by a deep noise rumbling through her throat as you kneed your fingers into her scalp, and into her hornbeds.

You laugh again, the acoustics in the shower causing it to sound tinny, "I love my egg. She is the best egg. Wash my hair before you pass out on me, you're thrumming already." 

"Yeah yeah, turn around," the usual bite in Vriska's voice is softened by the rise and fall of gravelly undertones. 

Stroking her horns one last time elicits a deeper thrum, and she knocks you with her shoulder as you turn, "Time for my dream to come true, I have always wanted to smell like eau d'spiderspit." 

Vriska spends approximately thirty seconds on your hair before grabbing both of your horns and pushing the sides of her fingers into your hornbeds. A spot between your lungs catches and grows heavy, a deep purr rising from your throat, "Adios pretense," she laughs, and you flip back around, papping her solidly on the temple, cheek, and then throat. She swallows, teeth buzzing with her next smile. 

Thumbs dig into the area between your neck and shoulders and you shriek, the tenseness of blade-wielding fading under the insistent press of her hands, "Wow, warn a girl first." You reach up and take hold of her horns again, the thrumming in both of your chests and throats building. You grab a shower pouf colored her shade of blue, and after applying an appropriate amount of soap, run it in circles across her body, paying specific attention to her shoulders and arms.

Neither of you are able to talk anymore, your vocal cords having been reduced to a strong buzzing. As soon as you finish with her back, Vriska pushes you lightly and grabs the pouf, quickly washing off her lower body. She drops it on the shower floor once she's finished and grabs the second, slightly lighter blue one off of the suction rack on the wall, repeating to you what you did to her. 

She then steps out of the shower and chucks a towel at your head. By the time you untangle yourself, she had twisted her hair up with one towel and wrapped another around her torso. You flick her with your towel, and she pulls her hair down and whips you with it. You attempt a laugh, but it is blocked by your continuous thrumming. 

Grabbing two robes, you throw one at her and wrap the other around yourself before gesturing to the door. Vriska grabs your hand and pulls you to the closest couch, pushing you into the cushions. You yank her down next to you, and within seconds you press your foreheads together, horns locking. You press a hand to her throat, nails out but not pressing, and she runs her nails gently up your throat, under your chin, and ends by papping you on the cheek. You involuntarily sink into the touch and wrap your fingers once more around the bases of her horns. You twist, and her thrumming crescendos. Her body begins to go slack, and with her last pieces of full awareness and dexterity, she runs her claws over your horns and presses her fingertips deeply into your hornbeds. Buzzing becomes all you hear, and eyes begin to close while your chest seems to thicken, the sensation spreading everywhere like your bloodpusher switched to pumping molasses. The last conscious thought you have is to grab Vriska's hand.

Approximately an hour later you come to after having been knocked in the shoulder, "Troll Sleeping Beauty finally awakes. Holy fuck, I papped you out _good_.  Anyway, while you were being oh so busy lying there, I threw together some food."

Vriska drops a plate full of grain strings and homogenized tomatoes onto your lap, settling next to you on the couch. "Wow, you're practically Troll Chef Boyardee!" She drops a fork on your head at that and you laugh, "I love the color pallet, red is the best."

"I could never forget you and your dumb red fetish," she plops down on the couch next to you, a matching plate in her hand. 

"I feel so loved," you shoot her a pointy smile. 

"I am the best at making people feel loved, it is me," she flips her hair over her shoulder, which you then have to blink out of your eyes. 

"Always."

 


End file.
